


MYCT Oneshots

by iwant_todie



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Gen, Oneshot, stuck au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26658937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwant_todie/pseuds/iwant_todie
Summary: Yeah I caved and made a oneshot book. All are cross posted with my tumblr @hermits-can-craftRequests are open
Kudos: 18





	1. Full Moon In Alpha

He’s more than worried, the potion that he always kept on him having disappeared from his inventory with the rest of his things. He needs that potion, though he knows he won’t be able to brew it until they get that update, though the full moon is tonight. He hasn’t made any preparations, he needs to get going before night gets too close and he puts Impulse and Grian in danger. **  
**

Still, Ren stands calmly outside the small wheat farm that he made, watching as the wheat grows slowly, and the grass-like plant dances in the wind. It’s calming here, not nearly as calming as the small room under the ocean that Doc built for him, all glass and stone and safety, hiding him away from the moon and the other hermits. 

But here is as good as it can be, Ren supposes, a faint smile fluttering across his lips. Grian walks by, wood planks in his hands, humming a tune to himself that Ren recognises but doesn’t remember. It’s surprisingly fast, how many memories that end up smudged, faded over time. Friends faces, song names, words that fall on the tip of your tongue. Ren should remember Doc’s face, Xisuma’s favourite song, the soup False makes for the hippies and the area 77 boys when they get too sick to cause mischief. And he can, in theory. Words he would describe Doc’s face as appear, a few bars of notes that Xisuma taught him, the taste of mushrooms in the soup. It hurts, remembering home, though it hurts more to forget. Forgetting is painful, hard to wrap his head around, so he doesn’t. Instead, he brushes his hair absentmindedly, combing his fingers through the thick, tangled messes. It’s thicker than usual, and Ren knows that he’ll need to leave soon, before the sun sets and it’s too hard to excuse his disappearance to his fellow hippies. Before the moon comes out.

“Hey Ren!” Impulse calls, watching him from the door of their little cabin. “Are you going to come in yet? It looks like it’s going to rain, and the sun’ll set soon!”

“Uh, can I take a walk my dudes?” Ren calls back, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Grian laughs from inside the cabin, and Ren curses himself. He should have left earlier, before Grian was back.

“Do you want to get torn apart by a zombie?” Grian asks, and Impulse grabs Ren’s shoulder, pulling him towards the building. “You know how hard night is now, you can’t go out!”

“How about tomorrow?” Impulse suggests, shoving Ren through the door. “We can all go out tomorrow morning. Find some flowers, you know?”

“There are only roses and dandelions, Impulse.” 

“I know Grian.”

“Roses hurt, Impulse.”

“I know Grian.” Impulse sighs. “Still, it’ll be nice, you know? Relaxing.”

“Sleep should do that though.” Grian yawns. “Anyone want some steak? The roof is repaired, by the way. I put some torches up there so we should have anymore creepers spawning up there.”

Impulse takes a steak off of Grian, handing it to Ren before he takes one for himself. Ren holds it in his hands, fear turning his stomach into knots. He can feel his mouth water at the smell, and his teeth sharpen painfully in his mouth, cutting into his cheeks and tongue as they grow in a space too small for them. It’s going to be a painful night, Ren knows that much. Ren turns the steak over in his hands, his nails sharpening to claws. He’s turning, earlier than normal, and fur pokes painfully under his skin. 

“Uh, Ren?” Grian’s voice is quiet, and Ren’s head snaps to the small hermit, his pupils blown. “What’s going on?”

Impulse moves in front of Grian, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. None of them would ever attack the other, but Ren looks like he isn’t there, isn’t in control. Ren snarls at the men before a scream rips from his throat, his bones breaking and elongating in painful contortions. Fur springs out from under his skin and his pupils dilate so far that his eyes are black. Grian and Impulse shout, Grian quickly building a barricade between the now wolf Ren and the two very human hippies.

“Grian.”

“Yeah?”

“Since when was Ren a werewolf?”

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT IMPULSE I ONLY JOINED THIS SEASON?” Grian yells, panic written across his face. “What do we do? How do we help him?”

“What if he doesn’t want our help? He can’t tell us if we’re hurting him or helping him, how are we supposed to let him know that we want to help?” Impulse and Grian both take a deep breath in, trying to calm themselves.

“I’m going out there. Maybe all we have to do is open the door for him, so that he can get out safely?” Grian doesn’t sound sure, as though he doesn’t know if its a good idea.

“And let him get shot? Lets just give him some hugs and then head off to bed.” Impulse suggests, and Grian nods, breaking the wood blocks that are barricading them into the corner.

Ren is curled on the ground, thick, long brown fur hiding the bed underneath him. He’s huge, larger than any dog that Impulse and Grian have ever seen and the two humans coo, surprising Ren, who looks up at them, tilting his head to the side. Grian walks over to Ren, his hands out in front of him, and Ren sniffs them before his tail starts to wag uncontrollably. Impulse coos, walking over and letting Ren sniff his hands as well. Grian and Impulse grin, happy that their friend feels somewhat comfortable.

“Doggo.” Grian mumbles, his hands over his mouth. “Ren’s a doggo.”

Ren boofs loudly, and Impulse and Grian burst into laughter, losing their minds as Ren boofs again, nudging Impulse. Impulse lifts his hand up, cocking his head to the side. Ren presses his head against Impulse’s hand, and Impulse begins to scratch at the spot that his hand landed on. Grian yawns, trying to find the bed under Ren, wondering why Ren decided to sit on his bed instead of Ren’s own bed. Impulse laughs at Grian’s dilemma, and Grian sighs, deciding instead to flop against Ren. Impulse joins Grian soon after, and the three hippies fall asleep like that, dreaming peacefully for what feels like the first time since they arrived in Alpha.


	2. Lost And Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck Au is created by @target-block on tumblr.

“What do you mean Impulse is gone?” Tango asks, running to keep up with Xisuma. The admin looks exhausted, as though continuing on with the server is wearing him down. “Why haven’t search parties gone out? He hasn’t left the server, surely we can find him - and Ren and Grian! There’s gotta be a way to-”

“Tango, they disappeared through time. We have no idea where they are, just that they’re still _technically_ on the server.” Xisuma’s voice is hollow, tired. He takes off his helmet, purple eyes looking into Tango’s red ones. “He’s gone, Tango. We’ve tried our hardest to find him, to find them all, but short of losing more people we can’t find them. I’m so sorry, Tango.”

Tango is frozen, his heart heavy in his chest. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, and his hand reaches for the golden hairclip in his hair. Zedaph has been dealing with this alone, without anyone there to help him because Tango left and now-

“Zed. Where’s Zed, Xisuma? Please tell me he hasn’t been alone.”

“I’m not sure.” The admin admits. “I don’t know if he’s been with other people, I’m sure he has, but I wouldn’t know.” It must be written all over Tango’s face how much he doesn’t trust that statement, because Xisuma sighs, putting his helmet back on. “I’ll ask the chat, everyone will know. Don’t worry, he’s probably been with Joe.

—

Joe in fact, had not seen Zedaph. Neither had TFC, nor had Bdubs, or Keralis, or Iskall, or False. Stress had, in fact, seen Zedaph since Impulse disappeared, but she admitted to Tango that she was so busy making sure that Iskall, Mumbo and Doc didn’t careen into oblivion, as well as keeping Doc and Scar separated. Tango couldn’t hold it against her, especially as he watched her fret about Iskall and Mumbo as they stared off into the distance every time a chicken clucked. Doc apologised to Tango, though Tango wasn’t sure why he would apologise - none of this was Doc’s fault. 

—

Zedaph places the last block down on his newest base - or really his first mini base but in a new location. Time is strange, locations are strange and nothing truely makes sense anymore. Not that it matters, he’s got a lovely new bed in a lovely new sarcophagus, so he really shouldn’t complain. He spins the ring around his finger, looking longingly outside. The sun isn’t setting yet, and if his clock is correct it’s only the mid afternoon, but he wants to sleep. He isn’t tired, far from it. Zedaph could probably run a marathon and still feel wide awake. No, sleep doesn’t beckon him because he’s tired, it beckons him because it’s the the only place that everything is good, everything is /normal/ again. Where Tango and Impulse are back, where they’re all together and fine. Tears spring in his eyes and he chokes back a sob. He really shouldn’t - no one’s around. There’s no one near him for miles. Still, he tries to hold back sobs as he curls up into a ball, the ring on his finger burning hotter than lava but he _can’t_ take it off. He just _can’t_ lose them, not yet.

Tango isn’t even lost, but that’s a small comfort. 

Tango said that he wouldn’t be back for a while, Zedaph _knows_ that Tango should be alright, but he doesn’t know, he can’t know. Is Tango alright? Does Tango even know that Impulse is missing or did none of the hermits send him a message? Why didn’t _Zedaph_ send Tango the message? Would Tango even come back if he knew?

Zedaph doesn’t want to think about these things, doesn’t want to think at all.

So he doesn’t. 

Mindlessly, Zedaph walks over to the bed, ignoring how his clock screams that it’s 3pm, he shouldn’t be going to sleep, not yet. Zedaph doesn’t think, just letting himself fall into the bed. Sleep holds him in it’s embrace, dreams washing over him like the tide. It’s calm. It’s better, asleep.

—

Tango can’t sleep. He’s flying out, looking for Zedaph. Guilt tears at his insides, the small white lie he told the hermits replays in his head. But he has to find Zedaph, how can he sleep while his friend is alone? How could he leave his friend to suffer?

Tango’s further out than he’s ever been before, so far away from everyone. He’d turn back now, but he wouldn’t put it past Zedaph to make a base far away from everyone, he wouldn’t put it past him to hide. Tango wants to hide, hide away from the hermits, all of whom look either tired or sad. All of them look at him with pity. They’ve given up, though not quite as much as he thought that they would have.

He did see Scar and Doc, in the shopping district. The three of them all clearly sneaking away from the people who were supposed to be watching them. Silently they brought rockets, as many as they could carry, and nodded to each other. Doc claimed the west side of the server, Scar claimed the north and east, saying that he hadn’t had the chance to fly around those areas since Cub started to watch over him. Tango only nodded, the south side of the server as good as any to look for his friend. Scar and Doc looked as though they wanted to say something, not to Tango but to each other, so Tango left to give them both privacy. He doesn’t know if they were caught, he wouldn’t put it past TFC to have told Xisuma, Cub and Stress that the two men were meeting up. From what Tango had heard, the two area 77 creators had tried to make a time machine based off of what they had studied from it, so that they could find Impulse, Grian and Ren, and they aren’t allowed to meet in private anymore.  
Tango would harbour them, if he got the chance too. Any progress, any chance to bring Impulse back is one that he’s willing to take.

A light appears over the horizon, not bright enough to be the morning, and too bright to be natural. A base, _god_ he hopes it’s Zedaph’s base. One of them, he doesn’t even have to be there. Just to be able to tell everyone that he’s found one of Zedaph’s bases would be a relief. Progress.

A pyramid, not unlike the one that Zedaph first made, appears over the horizon, and Tango can’t help but let his hopes get up. He prays to anyone who will listen to let it have Zedaph in it, awake and tired or asleep and dreaming.  
Tango lands, the cool desert air seeping into his bones. Who made deserts get colder at night? Who designed that? It’s terrible. He shivers in the air, walking around the base in an attempt to find the entrance. There are no mobs around, not even a husk, which does nothing to help his nerves. If Zedaph is in there, surely there would be mobs spawning?

The door lies open, and Tango enters the room, warm air flowing around him. It’s still cool but it’s so much better than the outside. He looks around the room, his eyes scanning for Zedaph, asleep on a ledge or sitting and reading a book, before they land on the centrepiece of the base. 

A sarcophagus sits on the floor in the middle of the room. It’s beautiful, wood and gold mixing to make the perfect image of luxury, but it does nothing to calm Tango. In fact, fear and desperation mix to create panic as Tango looks at down at the golden hair that pokes up inside it. Tango rushes to Zedaph’s side, looking down at his _best_ friend.

Zedaph looks so peaceful, his hair spread underneath him like a halo. His eyes don’t flutter, his breaths short and deep, and Tango collapses by his side, sobbing. He can barely think to notify the hermits, though his communicator buzzes every few seconds. He’s found Zedaph, he’s _found him_ , but he isn’t awake. He looks so peaceful, he looks like _death_.

"Please wake up. Zedaph _please_. ” Tango begs, sobbing onto the side of the sarcophagus, the _coffin_. “Please. Please Zed I _can’t_ lose you, I can’t lose you as well. _Please_.”

“Tango?” Zedaph’s voice is small, and Tango looks up, his red, tear filled eyes meeting Zedaph’s blue ones. Zedaph lets out a small, lifeless laugh. “I’m still asleep. This isn’t real, please don’t cry dream-Tango.”

“No! No Zedaph please I’m real, this is _real_ Zed. I’m back. I’m not leaving you again.” Tango pulls Zedaph into a hug, sobbing into Zedaph’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving you. I _promise_ Zed. I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

Zedaph’s arms slowly make their way around Tango’s sides, and Zedaph grips onto Tango’s back, sobbing into Tango’s jacket. The two men stay like that, clinging to each other as though their lives depended on it for the rest of the night, and most of the next day. 

Maybe their lives did depend on each other, on staying together. Maybe they didn’t. It wouldn’t matter, they wouldn’t know. They are together again, safe. Nothing else mattered in those moments, just each other. The fear of falling asleep and waking up alone once more was too much for them. They held each other tight through the night, chanting that they were /here/. That they were /real/, that they weren’t leaving the other lost its effect of a chant and became a prayer, then it became a promise. A pact. They were together, though the loss of Impulse weight heavily down on the both of them. It was too much, losing him, but they had each other. They _have_ each other.


End file.
